no sooner do the 17 year olds leave than mumm and daydream return home.
that unsentence makes non sense.
earlier, when I was comfortably curled up reading, the aforementioned 17 year olds, of which there were 3, all female, effervescing and overly blonde, dragged me out into the roaring rain to buy them alcohol. they skipped all the way, jumping in puddles and chattering at the tops of their voices:
1: i’m going to get four, no, six! green bundies!
2: oh my god, you’re going to be like, sick as.
3: nuh uh! i’m going to have some too!
2: well i’m getting four raspberry vodka cruisers.
3: get lemon ruskies!
2: no, they’re more expensive.
1: oh we should just get straight JD!
3: nuh uh! Lara told us last time you drank straight JD you puked for, like, ten hours straight!
1: what?! Lara wasn’t even there!
1: Jared’s party the other night.
3: holy crap, you alcho! you drink, like, a bottle a night!
1: nah. I drink two.
2: that’s festo!
1: so we’re getting straight JD, yeah?
2 & 3: no!
me trudging sourly along behind, coughing and spluttering in the rain, ignoring any full-of-cheer comments yelled in my direction. when we arrived at the liquor store the girls hid ’round the corner, furtiveness making them twice as conspicuous. I saw that the store was closed. gosh. after all that excited buildup.
I sat on a bench out the front, laughing one “ha” every minute. I was there for around 10 before they came to find me.
I felt even better today, before the adventure in the rain. now i’ve gone back three days. oh,
daydream had asked me for the car keys. as I rummaged in my bag, he said, “thanks for folding the washing.”
I dropped the keys into his hand, said, “I didn’t do it for you,” and walked away.
I only realised later how mean that could have been taken, and probably was. I stressed about it for, like, ten hours straight.